


Born Stubborn

by PlumTea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Final Haikyuu Quest, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: The last thing Iwaizumi expects is to be gifted the prize after a royal hunt, and he's not prepared for the whirlwind that follows.





	Born Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riseelectric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseelectric/gifts).



> My half of a trade with North!

This wolf has seen many years, many battles, many hunts. Its silver coat is patterned with discolored scars and patches of pink skin that will never grow fur ever again. A field is lighter than the woods, and it yearns for the sun to warm it up, just a little. It raises its massive head and pauses to sniff the air. Spring winds, wildflowers, old tracks and something else. _Human_ , it thinks, seconds before an arrow pierces its skull. Only a few droplets of blood splatter the arrowhead, as if it was still in the air and not buried in quivering flesh. On its paws, the wolf keeps its legs rooted, not believing what just happened. He- it- the all powerful-- rolls back its eyes and its knees hit the ground. Toppling over, it collapses with a thump, a wooden shaft embedded in its skull like a propped flag.

Iwaizumi squints from the edge of the clearing, counting the seconds. Limp muscles and blood pooling around the grass. Fragments of skull around an eruption of torn skin. Five, ten, twenty. “It’s down.”

In a hunt, Kageyama is swallowed up by a state of intense peace. He shifts back out of his element with practiced slowness, until he hears the soldiers murmuring polite but muted praises for their general. His eyes widen, like he forgot that they were all there, but he climbs down from his perch quietly to not disturb the reality below.

Wolves in the kingdom aren’t an uncommon sight, but Iwaizumi’s never seen such a huge carcass before. The strips of flesh Commander Shido cuts away from the body are bigger than any hunk of meat he’s ever seen before. Its size easily dwarfs any of them, even as a harmless corpse. The rumors of the wolf ravaging the countryside and tearing apart anything that encounters it were no joke.

Careful to toss away the poisoned flesh, Shido wipes his brow and hauls the pelt into his hands. It’s so large that it tramples wildflowers and grass behind him.

“You made the first kill,” General Sawauchi says, looking to Kageyama. “It’s yours to present.”

The presentation of the first kill is a high honor, for whoever keeps the hide of a great beast will be remembered with the ferocity of the beast itself.

Kageyama will present it to Oikawa, no doubt. Ever since Kageyama found out that Oikawa had enough magical potential that horns grew from his head, he’d become even more enamoured with serving the throne. There isn’t a trace of magical ability in Kageyama’s blood, but still he follows Oikawa around, eager with the chance to possibly learn more.

Iwaizumi eases out the tension in his shoulders and adjusts the saddle on his horse. He left Yuda in charge of the imperial guard while he’s away, and Oikawa can more than take care of himself, but he can’t help but worry. The hunt was thrilling, but now that it’s over, duty remains.

“Iwaizumi.” He turns and Kageyama stands there, fur spilling over his arms like an awkward blanket. Kageyama glances at Iwaizumi’s face, seeking permission, and then after a short inhale, holds out the pelt. “Take it. It’s yours now.”

 

* * *

 

“You got a gift.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t like when Oikawa walks circles around him, but he’s tasked with guarding his king, not making sure he stays sitting. “And you’ve seen it.” Oikawa’s done his fifth revolution by now, and no doubt has memorized every strand of fur on Iwaizumi’s new cloak.

“Iwa-chan! You should be _excited_.” Oikawa steps in close, and his nails rake through the gray fur. Iwaizumi remembers when Oikawa’s nails weren’t pointed like claws, when Oikawa’s horns were tiny nubs in his hair. When he didn’t have to wonder if the gnarled horns were rooted so tightly in Oikawa’s skull and eating his soul away. Quietly, Oikawa says a name in a language Iwaizumi doesn’t recognize. “A shame he started rampaging, but his pelt should make you even stronger. More stubborn. A one of a kind rarity.”

Ever since the hunting party came back, Oikawa’s been obsessed with the thing. That in itself isn’t odd, because Oikawa’s as much of a scholar as he is a ruler, and he’s interested in all things magical. Soon those horns of his are going to reach the ceiling.

He’d never give away a gift, but still Iwaizumi asks, “Do you want it?” Knowing Oikawa, he’d have no problem telling Iwaizumi what he wants, and Iwaizumi can turn him down with much less pacing involved.

There’s a flicker of emotion across Oikawa’s lips, but it’s too fast and faint for Iwaizumi to recognize it. “No, you keep it. I just didn’t think Tobio-chan would be so bold.”

“If you want to lecture him, you can. It would be stupid and petty, but you can.”

“I don’t need to see him,” Oikawa says, mud one moment and water the next. “A loyal pelt for my loyal knight. Its strength will aid you, especially since you were there at its death.”

“I didn’t kill it.”

“Nobody expected you to. Sawauchi just wanted you to come along. You’re so popular.” Some of the citizens call Oikawa the Demon King, but Iwaizumi isn’t one to believe it, even when Oikawa stares like he’s caught sight of something that isn’t there. Just as quickly, Oikawa puffs up, proud, and declares, “But you’ll never be as popular as Oikawa-san!”

“You really let your coronation get to your head.”

“Of course not! I was popular from the start. You grew into it. That’s what happens when you go hang out with people so much.”

There’s something on Oikawa’s mind, and he’s distracting himself. When he’s focusing his entire being on something specific, Oikawa also stirs up details in every other thing. This time, Iwaizumi supposes, it’s the cloak.

“It’ll work out,” Iwaizumi says. “Whatever it is you’re working on.”

Oikawa softens a little at that, but some part of him is still far away. “You should cherish it,” he says, somehow insincere. “After all, Tobio doesn’t give out many gifts.”

 

* * *

 

Kageyama always practices his archery in the courtyard, right around noon. It’s doubtful that the concept of rest is even in his vocabulary, for when he isn’t honing his skills on the battlefield, he’s desperately trying to figure out what magic is suitable for him.

He turns to Iwaizumi’s approach, and his face shifts from a frown to what might be something brighter. “Iwaizumi.”

“Lunch break.” Guarding the magical king was a full-time job, but Oikawa knew the value of letting his guards relax before getting burned out was even an afterthought. The miller had delivered some fresh bread this morning, and Iwaizumi had hollowed out a roll with shredded fish. He plops down on a stone ledge, far away enough to not disturb Kageyama, but close enough to watch. “Practicing again?”

“Yes,” Kageyama replies, a little faintly.

“You’ve got plenty of talent.” Iwaizumi bites into the bread. “Why not rest for a day?”

Kageyama pauses, like he hadn’t even considered it. Carefully, like he’s afraid it would run away from him, he sets the bow down. “It looks good,” he says, eyeing the cloak.

“You think so?” Iwaizumi’s not going to admit it, but he’s looked in the mirror a few times and he looks damn cool. Still, it’s a little weird being the only person in the imperial guard to wear something so fancy. Oikawa’s hexes are nothing new, and when he touches the fur, he feels a current running through it like a pulse, some sort of leftover magic from when the beast was alive. Like Kageyama, he’s been curious about magic himself, especially following Oikawa for his entire life. Of course, he soon found out that magic didn’t work for everyone, and put his work into something he could make the best of.

Kageyama keeps a bit of distance between them, but not too much. Months before, he’d just keep practicing, but now he takes the time to slow down. “Is there something wrong with my archery?”

“What? No, you’re fine.”

“Then… if you told me to stop, then…”

Iwaizumi chuckles. “No, your archery’s great. Your swordplay could use a little work, but you’re good. Nothing wrong with working hard, but you need to rest once in a while. Even Oikawa has to rest.”

“Even Oikawa-san…” Kageyama mumbles, entranced. He pinches his shoulders together and nods. “I have something to show you, first.”

He picks up his bow again, and notches an arrow into place. He holds it in place for far too long, especially for someone quick like Kageyama. When the arrow flies, it zips through the air, and smashes not into, but _through_ the target. The wood crackles, sinking in from the impact, before it gives and collapses into splintered pieces.

There’s no way an arrow could’ve done that. _Magic,_ but Kageyama doesn't know magic. He’s tried, but want has never been an excuse for results-- Iwaizumi would know. “Wow. I… wow. Damn. You really did it.” It doesn’t sound very smart, coming out of his mouth, but that’s all he can manage. “You really did it.”

Kageyama looks at him wide-eyed, more surprised by Iwaizumi than by the broken target. He seems flustered, incoherent, and his breath is so quiet that the birds are much noisier than they’ve ever been. “I was right,” Kageyama splits the air. “You deserve that pelt.”

Iwaizumi wouldn’t say that he isn’t curious. Everyone thought Oikawa would get it, since everyone knew the way Kageyama stared at Oikawa’s back when he wasn’t looking. Iwaizumi may be well liked in the castle, but he’s no magical king. “Did you doubt it?”

“Not me. But everyone told me I should. I know the other generals don’t like me very much.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to say something contrary and encouraging, but that would be a lie. Lying to Kageyama right now would put a distance between them that would never be recovered. The other generals never invite Kageyama to any of their dinners, and only ask Kageyama to come along for customary hunts. They crack jokes and laugh with each other, but their faces always become more polite when Kageyama’s around.

All the time Iwaizumi’s known Kageyama, he thought that the boy was somewhat dense. Kageyama is absurdly talented and fierce on the battlefield, but peacetime makes him awkward and unremarkable. To think that all along, he’d been keyed in to what the rest of the castle knew, that no matter his blood or accomplishments he’d always be an outsider, made him much more real than the blunt genius.

“You think so?” he says, neutrally.

“They only talk to me when they have to.” Kageyama speaks quietly, still uncomfortable in his skin, and Iwaizumi has never seen him more dejected before. Being dense was a shield, but that shield isn’t as impenetrable as he thought. “But Iwaizumi-san, you talk to me. You act like my magic is a good thing.” He turns his eyes down, looking sour but hesitant. “Thanks.” He looks like he could say more, but Kageyama was never good with words.

Iwaizumi motions Kageyama over, and ruffles Kageyama’s hair when he comes close. “Hey, don’t get down. It’s nice talking to you too.”

Kageyama looks at him, hesitantly but filled with hope, and Iwaizumi knows that deciding to take his breaks with Kageyama was the right choice.

 

* * *

 

“So the day has finally come.” Oikawa acts regal on the throne but in front of his trusted subordinates, and more in front of Iwaizumi, he allows himself to unfurl. His jeweled raiments are traded for simple cotton, and he lays splayed on the furniture, papers all around him.

Without missing a beat or looking up from his work, Iwaizumi replies, “Your horns are finally too heavy for your head and you need a neck brace?”

Oikawa puffs up, and Iwaizumi has no problem telling Oikawa he looks like an overstuffed balloon, and that gets him a halfhearted burst of frost to the face. Just as quickly, the moment has passed, and Oikawa’s sunk into the shadows again. “Tobio-chan’s learned magic.”

It’s not a question of how Oikawa knew, because Oikawa always knows. “Some basics.”

“For now.”

“Lay off, Oikawa. He’s got some knowledge of enhancement. You really think that’s anywhere close to you?”

“He could want me dead one day.”

“Really? Kageyama? Is that a joke?”

“You’re being pretty protective of Tobio-chan. He can defend himself, you know.”

Except Iwaizumi knows Kageyama wouldn’t; he’d take on Oikawa’s fangs because all he sees is a smile. “Well, sometimes he needs it.”

“He needs it? So if the castle is burning down, who would you run to save?”

Iwaizumi prepares an insult, but then he sees Oikawa’s stopped breathing. His eyes have gone flat, reflecting the candlelight outside him instead of the usual fire inside, watching, waiting. “Is that hypothetical?”

“Of course.” Oikawa’s finely crafted porcelain mask gives him a beautiful smile, and it boils acid deep in Iwaizumi’s stomach. There’s a chasm between them now, and he’s no mind reader. He has no idea what Oikawa is thinking, but if he’s giving Iwaizumi the same doll-like face that he gives to everyone else, it’s bad.

“I’d help you both.”

“There isn’t a both,” Oikawa snaps at him, face still smooth. “There’s only one.”

“Then fuck possibility. I’ll make it happen.”

Oikawa’s mask shifts, something misty in the dark. “You would. My loyal knight would cut himself in half to make it real.”

The spell of discomfort wears off when anger flares up inside him. “You think I can’t care for two people at once?”

Red eyes anchor to him. Oikawa rises like a growing flame, shadowed fury billowing behind him. “Don’t lie to me.” He’s known for a long time that the young price he remembered as a child had evolved into something beyond his comprehension, and those fears are no longer just quiet doubts. “There’s never a both. Equal? That’s a lie. There’s always one that wins out over the other, and you know it. You can pretend all you want, but that’s always how it will be.”

There’s only one way to deal with Oikawa’s anger. Iwaizumi stomps over and grabs one of Oikawa’s horns so tight the ridges dig into his skin. “So for you, it’s fine?”

“I can do it! Because you know what my priorities are! And they will never change!” The stones quiver under Oikawa’s fury and jangle terrified against Iwaizumi’s heels. Heat rages across Oikawa’s horns, searing Iwaizumi’s palm and melting flesh against bone. “I don’t have space for anyone else! Nobody will worm their way into my heart unless I allow it! Why can’t you spend time with anyone else-- anyone else is fine, but not Tobio-chan.”

“I’m not going to betray you.”

Oikawa bristles, because not in even the worst of his fury would he dare imply that. “He gave you that pelt.”

“Because he enjoys my company. He’s lonely.”

“Right. He’s lonely. I’m sure. He’s the only lonely one. You know what that pelt means. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

Iwaizumi keeps his face firm and his eyes unyielding, reminding Oikawa that he isn’t just talking to anyone. “I knew you didn’t like him, but I didn’t think you hated him that much.”

That makes Oikawa shrink back, and Iwaizumi loosens his grip. Bright pink patterns his palm, dents and ridges and all.

“I don’t. I don’t hate him. Not really. He’s too dazzling.” The gnarled horns that have dragged his silhouette higher than ever imaginable now warp it on the wall. “Tobio-chan’s stupid. He doesn’t get people. It doesn’t make sense how illiterate he is, with the education he got. But— but he’s also smart, in his own way. And stubborn.

“I’m not going to sit on my magic tomes for the rest of my life. Why wouldn’t I want my generals to succeed? And when he does, the only thing he won’t have is the throne. I can be king, knowing that one of my generals is better at magic and taking the one person I care about away.”

“So what, you’re going to kill him?”

Oikawa flickers. He’s thought of this before. “I don’t want to kill Tobio-chan. If only… one morning I’d wake up, and he wasn’t there. But that’s a joke. No magic can melt someone’s existence away like snow. It’s fine. I know what’s coming.”

Iwaizumi could suggest not spending his lunches with Kageyama, but he doesn’t want to make that promise. To just pull away like would rub a saw across his skin. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing that can be done. That’s it. Iwa-chan, you’re kind. If you were cruel, you wouldn’t be you,”

Oikawa is supposed to fight against the world. He’s not supposed to look so worn down and tired, torn between doing the unspeakable and allowing himself to have what he wants.

Iwaizumi lets out a long sigh and knocks Oikawa’s shoulder. “You’re so stupid. So, so stupid. You think I can’t run after you both?”

All he needed was that one touch and Oikawa simmers down into ash. His laugh kicks up spirals of dust, and sends the diligently organized papers fluttering across the room. “If anyone could, it’s Iwa-chan.”

They both sit, half from exhaustion and half because if they tuck themselves away into this pocket of the room, then maybe things can just fizzle out. Iwaizumi sweeps the pelt over them both and even when Oikawa grumbles, he doesn’t knock it off his shoulders.

“If you talk to him instead of ignoring him, then maybe…” Maybe what? Iwaizumi’s not sure how to end it, so he goes quiet, letting Oikawa figure out the balance himself. He wants to be happy, he wants them all to be happy, but if he forces anything then that illusion will crumple like brittle sugar.

Oikawa chews on his lip and that fire kindles again, faint but steadily burning. “Yeah. Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

Kageyama’s shoulders slump inward, torn between excitement, fear, and deference to his lord. It’s been three weeks since he last saw Oikawa, and even longer since Oikawa came to talk to him willingly. When he hurries over, he steps quickly and lightly, like he doesn’t trust his feet to take him where they promise. “Oikawa-san,” he says, still not believing. “You’re here.”

Oikawa waves his hand dismissively. “Quit gaping, I’m not an illusion.”

At that, Kageyama sputters something quietly, but he bobs his head in agreement. He glances at Iwaizumi, unsure what to say, and curls his fingers nervously around his bow.

“Moron here is just out for a walk.”

“Not a moron,” Oikawa hums.

“Okay.” Kageyama unfolds a little at that, shoulders unknotting.

Oikawa scoffs, flicking his bands aside with a sweep of his hand. “So. I heard Tobio-chan is learning some,” he spits out the word like it’s bitter in his mouth, “magic.”

“I am,” Kageyama says, too proud of it to notice he’s treading on toes.

“Really! Then you should be able to destroy rock, not wood! If all you can do is wreck a wooden plank, then you’re way behind! You’ll get nowhere with some cheap magic.”

Iwaizumi sighs, readying his fist.

“But! You forced something to happen that never should have happened. Not bad.”

Kageyama looks between them, bewildered, but then he brightens up. He doesn’t smile with his teeth, just a wrinkle of his mouth, but with that he becomes so charming that Iwaizumi can’t help but smile himself.

Oikawa crinkles up, crossing his arms, trying to put distance between him and Kageyama. “So I came to watch you fail!”

“Oh. Okay.”

“What’s with that response! At least have the decency to act disappointed!”

On instinct, Kageyama ignores Oikawa and frees his bow. His boots squeak against the courtyard stone as he hurries toward the targets, not about to let the opportunity pass to show what he’s learned for both of them.

Iwaizumi takes his usual seat and motions Oikawa over. Oikawa curdles, but sits down next to his knight with a huff. “Was that so bad?”

“Yes,” Oikawa says, but he puts his chin in his hands and keeps his eyes firmly on Kageyama.

They both sit in the sun, watching as Kageyama loads an arrow and takes careful aim.


End file.
